The High Priestess and the Warlock
by InsanityRunsInMyBlood
Summary: Actually no, Morgana, he didn't summon you. Why are 'you' here? Mergana, post season 5. Some fluff and suggestive themes, M to be safe. I just wanted to write something semi-happy...for once.


**Honestly, I don't even know anymore. Inspired by jaqtkd's 'The Power of Words'. Beautiful piece.**

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It had always been hard, he muses, sitting quietly on the shore of the Isle of the Blessed. His feet dangled in the cool water, and his eyes were trained on the clear skies of autumn dotted by wisps of clouds here and there.

He waited in silence.

He waited with patience.

He waited with a peace he had not felt since…Ealdor. Since before Camelot.

He smiled ruefully at the water as Samhain Eve drew near. The sun reluctantly slipped below the horizon, too early for its time, but Merlin was glad for Samhain to fall in this season—it meant _he_ had more time. He supposed February would have been better, but he wasn't going to complain.

The moon took over the skies proudly.

_Full,_ he noted with another smile. He closed his eyes, raising his hand up in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he began to chant in a low voice, the slightly accented lilt coming through in the fluent way he spoke the language of the Old Religion.

He could barely feel the ripples as the Veil allowed spirits to pass through on this hallowed eve. T'was the only time of the year Merlin could talk to his loved ones, all lost to the passage of time, and some before to the cruel hand of Fate.

He finished his chant in a whisper, preparing himself for the sight in front of him.

When he opened his eyes, shock quickly coloured his features when he saw someone he did _not_ summon, and none of whom he _had_ summoned.

"Not pleased to see me?" Morgana Pendragon asked lightly, floating with her head above the water. He blinked.

Floating?

She smiled at his bemused expression, swimming closer. He examined the ripples that splashed across his legs.

She was real.

Here.

In physical form.

"Rather astounding, isn't it?" She asked, coming to a rest near his legs. He did not move, rather looked at her with silent questions.

"It has been twenty years, Emrys." She said softly, her tone changing to something Merlin dearly missed without knowing it. Only the usage of his Druid name bothered him. "And every year I watched them pass through the Veil to see you. Not a single year have I heard you call my name." She said, looking up at the starry skies. "Of course, I understood the grievances, anger, and hatred between us," she did not pause to give him time to speak, "And so I waited, hoping you would call me so I can say to you everything I had not when I had been alive. For a decade, I've held that belief and waited, and when the fifteenth Samhain passed, I started to doubt if you wanted to summon me even if it were for the purpose of taking your frustrations out on me. " She paused here, but now Merlin found himself unable to reply. "The Cailleach granted me this favour at the behest of the Triple Goddess." Her voice was reverent and grateful when she spoke the name of the goddess she was High Priestess to. "But I'm selfish, Merlin." She shook her head. "To do this everyone else had to sacrifice themselves." She said, looking anywhere but him. "You cannot see them for another year because of me," and her voice held guilt, something he had not heard in a long, long time.

Again, he was silent.

She waited.

His lips did not open.

She looked at him sharply after a while, a familiar fire burning in her emerald eyes. Anger flashed across her face.

"Say something!" She spat.

Merlin smiled.

"I see you're still quick to anger." He commented mildly. She looked at him with confusion clouding her features.

"And you're still as cryptic as ever." She retorted, rapidly losing her temper. She looked at him with much softer eyes this time. "Why won't you say anything to me?" She asked, a plead in her voice.

He sighed, looking up at the sky this time. He could feel her eyes on him, unwavering and frustrated.

"There is nothing left to say." He lied. He felt the water swish around his calves as she drew away, and he knew if he was looking at her she would have a hurt expression.

"How could you say that?" Her voice was barely a trembling whisper, hoarse with coursing emotions.

He remained stubbornly silent.

"Nothing?" She prompted.

He shook his head, pursing his lips.

"I don't believe you." She said sceptically, swimming closer. Merlin resisted the urge to look at her. What was he to say to her after all of these years spent alone, without his friends? Could he blame her for all the deaths she caused? Or would he tell her that he was the one to blame—that he was sorry he did not confess and reveal to her his secret, that he did not help her in her greatest time of need? Everything seemed so hollow, so pointless, when all he could offer her were meaningless words.

So it came to him as a shock when she touched him. _Her_, touching _his_ leg. Not just the water's displacement from her movement—but _her_. It jolted him out of whatever dream he thought he was living.

Suddenly she seemed more real than she ever was.

Her hand was warm and soft, nothing like he expected, yet everything like he imagined. The gentleness in her touch reminded him of a time before everything fell to chaos, when she was just still Uther's ward, full of compassion and life, and having no knowledge of her magic.

_Then again,_ he reflected, _she wouldn't be Morgana without her magic. _

To be honest, he had never seen her so at peace then when she was living in her hovel, despite being blinded by hatred and vengeance. There she was free to practice her ability, dark magic or not, without being afraid of persecution.

_Aside from her fear of Emrys, that is_, his brain supplied helpfully. He was about to start an argument when her voice penetrated his thoughts again.

"They didn't sacrifice their visiting time so you could ignore me all night, Merlin." Her voice held a wry tone, and he chuckled despite himself. She smiled, and he was entranced, drawn like moth to a flame.

"No," he agreed, sliding into the water. "I suppose not." He said, ignoring the cold.

She shied away from him, and he tilted his head, frowning.

A rare blush graced her cheeks.

"Ah…the Cailleach warned me I would not have any physical belongings on me during this night." She admitted, looking down at the water shyly. Merlin found this endearing—what with the provocative dress she wore during her exile…and _now_ she decides to be modest? But he supposed cleavage was different from full-on nudity.

He made a noncommittal noise, and she looked at him gratefully. Not many men would have been able to resist, after all, even if she was still really a spirit…in the flesh, if that made any sense.

"What did you want to talk about?" He asked instead.

"I had planned many things I would have liked to say," she replied slowly, "But now, actually being here…I cannot bring myself to say anything, except that I'm sorry." She said simply, the sincerity in her tone clear.

He contemplated her words. It was ironic how he had also thought about what he would say to her if he ever saw her again, and that, really, he would have said the same words, only for different reasons.

"Then I would have to say I accept…and…I'm sorry too, Morgana." It was the first time he had said her name in over twenty years, and it tasted strange on his lips, even though it was familiar in his mind.

"You should be." Was her blunt reply, and he laughed loudly, startling her.

"If there was one thing I missed about you it was your sense of humour."

"Why, Emrys, I don't know whether to be flattered or not." She said sarcastically. His smile faltered when he heard that name again.

He wasn't stupid. He knew how much terror it had instilled on her during her last few years alive.

"Please," he heard himself say, "My name is _Merlin_."

He saw her hesitation, and he swam forward slowly. She did not back away, only looking down with shame written across her face.

He offered his hands, not wanting to go around searching in the water and accidentally brushing against elsewhere.

She took them after a few moments, hands hanging limply in his grip.

"I'm just Merlin." He said. "Just Merlin."

"M-" It seemed ridiculous to her that after all those years calling Arthur's manservant by his name effortlessly, she would be so afraid to repeat it. Deep in her mind, she knew he was the same boy—no, _man_ she had first met in Camelot, but her unresolved fear prevented her from saying it out loud.

"What's done is done, Morgana. Leave the past in the past. I have had to learn how to live again…and I can teach you, even if only tonight." He said softly.

"I-" She hated the way he made her feel, how her voice would catch, and how she would feel so _weak_, like the girl she had been in Camelot.

But his blue eyes were so warm and caring, nothing like the cold flints she was accustomed to during her quest for revenge.

She had resented him so much after she passed to the land of the spirits. She had spent the first few years raging and vowing to return to haunt him and the likes. But gradually, her fury was quenched, and she began to regret everything she had done.

Well, not _everything_, but most things. She wanted him to forgive her, needed him to hear her out despite knowing it was not possible, that he would probably live his whole life bearing a grudge.

But he was not her.

And now he was doing exactly what she had dreamt of.

"Thank you…Merlin." There was still the slightest tremor in the way she pronounced the name, but Merlin was more than satisfied with that.

"Come, let's talk about lighthearted things." Merlin said, leading her away from the shore. "We have both said what we had to say." He murmured. It wasn't the complete truth, though. There were six words split into two groups of three he wanted to say to her but never had the chance to. The first three, he had lost the chance to tell her himself, but the last three…

Morgana smiled, and he steeled his resolve. He would not leave anything else unsaid between them anymore. She was already gone. What harm would it do? If anything it'll be worse if he does not tell her.

"You know when the first time I saw you was?" He asked conversationally. She shook her head, swimming around him.

"Was it not the first time I saw _you_?" She countered.

"No…not really." He said rather sheepishly. "We did sort of 'talk' to each other, but you did not realise it was me at the time."

She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for his explanation.

"Er," he cleared his throat. "The first day I came to Camelot Gaius had me deliver your sleeping draught to you. You assumed I was Gwen and you went to change behind the screen." He cleared his throat again.

Morgana's lips parted, her mind racing.

"That was _you?_" Her voice came out as a squeak of embarrassment. "But I wasn't being discreet at all!" She exclaimed. "Didn't I even ask you to help me lace up?"

"And that's when Gwen swooped in to save the day." Merlin said with a large grin. He remembered the way his mouth dried and his heart…oh his heart had decided to run an entire marathon sans stop when his eyes landed on her exposed shoulder.

"Oh, that would have been _so_ mortifying." Morgana muttered to herself, going red. Merlin flushed a bit as well, thinking of the implications.

"Thank goodness Gwen saved me." He said absent-mindedly, his eyes wandering to her half-exposed shoulders. Her pale skin glistened under the moonlight, the water coating her skin with an ethereal shine.

"_Mer_lin!" She said teasingly. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

He backtracked quickly. What had he said wrong?

_Thank goodness Gwen saved me_, ran through his head. 'Saved'.

Ah.

"You're beautiful, Morgana." He said truthfully. She raised both her eyebrows this time. Other than that, he could not see a visible reaction. "I don't know if I would have been able to do anything at all if Gwen hadn't turned up. I would probably have been beheaded if you screamed and guards ran in."

"True." She conceded. It was as if she were ignoring his compliment.

"I meant what I said, you know." He felt like if he didn't say it now, there would not be another chance like this to do so. "You're the single most lovely creature I have ever laid my eyes upon, my lady." He elaborated, reverting to her title. He felt like it suited a situation like this.

She looked uncertain of how to respond, the bashfulness re-entering her features.

"Modesty does not suit you, though." He added cheekily, and she swatted at him almost instinctively.

"I thought you liked Gwen." She replied flimsily.

"Gwen is pretty." Merlin agreed. "And so was Freya. Your sister, Morgause," he continued at her astonished look, "Nimueh, Mithian, Isolde, Elena, and Sofia, despite being a Sidhe." He shrugged. "I know how to appreciate beauty when I see it, Morgana…just not before I made grave mistakes concerning my destiny." He looked at her soulfully, and drew her closer. She did not complain, nor make a single move to retreat.

"Honestly, I think you stole my heart when I first saw you." He admitted. She inhaled sharply. "But I knew it could never have amounted to anything. Even when you turned on Camelot, there was still a part of me that wanted to abandon everything and run with you. It was the darkness inside of me I knew I could never embrace, and so I locked it away and watched you succumb to it." His eyes glistened. "I think…I loved you, once."

She opened her mouth, desperate to say something to him, but it seemed that she was in a similar situation to Merlin when she was speaking herself. He had rendered her speechless, and if the situation wasn't as such, she would have laughed.

She licked her lips, her tongue darting out in a rather nervous gesture. She didn't miss the way his eyes followed the movement.

It had been too long. She had forgotten the small reflexes of being alive, and…being in love.

Love was an emotion lost to her a long time ago, and yet Merlin here stirred her cold heartstrings and urged her heart to pump the warm emotion through her body again.

"And now?" She feared the answer.

He didn't speak for a very long time, and she watched the moon's passage in the sky anxiously, aware their time together was coming to an end.

"I don't think I've ever stopped."

Just like he had stolen her breath, now he stopped her heart. She moved closer, sliding through the water smoothly, coming to a rest against him. She could feel him…feel his warmth, just as he could feel the contours of her body mould against him, and feel old desire flare like fire sparking from embers.

"And you?" He breathed against her lips. "Did you ever even…like me? A little bit?"

He sounded so insecure she wanted to wrap him up in her arms and comfort him like a mother her child.

"What's there not to love?" She asked.

Her feelings for him were _definitely_ not maternal.

He laughed with joy and relief in his voice, his hands moving to cup her face. "Then you would not mind if I…?"

She met his lips halfway, closing her eyes when his hands moved to hold the back of her neck and down to the small of her back. It was a simple, sweet, and long-awaited kiss, marred perhaps only by her state of undress, but Merlin was nothing if not honourable.

When she finally pulled away, she felt like she could fly, her heart fluttering like wings of a hummingbird. Merlin peppered kisses along her neck and collarbones, and her eyes slid shut of their own accord. A small sound escaped, and she could feel Merlin smile against her skin.

"Look at me, sullying a High Priestess." He said huskily.

"I'm sure the goddess wouldn't mind." Morgana replied suggestively.

Merlin had to remind himself that she was dead.

_Hah, tell that to your traitorous body_, his mind snapped.

_It is _not_ necrophilia_, another part of his brain argued. Merlin wrinkled his nose.

_Perish the thought, both of you!_ He commanded. It felt weird to tell himself to shut up, but it seemed to work, as his concentration was now fully focused on the woman in front of him.

"To me, you _are_ the goddess." He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Then I would, in fact, _not_ mind."

Merlin grinned roguishly, and Morgana's heart skipped a beat. It seemed that he has changed far more than she realised. She should give him more credit.

She pressed himself against him and shuddered. _Oh, yes, a _lot_ more credit._

When the first light of dawn splashed over the horizon, the lovers stirred from their huddled position. Neither of them have slept for the whole night. They had stayed up talking about this and that, never losing contact with one another, just cherishing their time left together.

"Fate is cruel." Merlin said sadly, watching the sky brighten with every passing minute.

"Destiny even crueler." Morgana said wistfully, tracing patterns on his chest. "Just think of what we could have done without it forcing our hands."

Merlin bowed his head, shoulders sagging at the truth in her words.

She stood.

"I must leave now." She cast a look at the rising sun and sighed.

"Am I to understand that you will never return like this again?" Merlin touched her hip, fingers lingering. She gave him a half-smile, a glorious picture radiating sorrow that'll forever be ingrained into his mind. She looked like she had come straight out of a legend, and he knew that in the future that is what they all may become. The thought saddened him further, and made the parting even more bittersweet.

She didn't answer him because he knew what she was going to say. He rose fluidly, watching the tendrils of golden magic swirl around her skin. He knew her time was really up now, and discovered that a part of him was inherently selfish as well—he wanted to see her every year again and again, like this. To do this, though, would mean he could not see Arthur, Gwen, Gaius, and all of his other good friends and family.

"I love you, Merlin." She said instead, and started to fade. He tilted her chin up desperately, meeting her lips in a last kiss.

"I love you too, Morgana." He whispered, her essence waning at his fingertips. She smiled.

_Until next year, my love._

He was startled at the telepathic message, but he managed to nod tearfully before the first ray of light broke through and shone onto the island.

And that was that.

She was gone again.

But instead of leaving him broken, this time she left him hope, and reignited a love long lost.

He clambered onto the boat and murmured the spell. As the boat glided across the lake, he gazed back at the derelict ruins of the mist-shrouded island.

_Until next year, my love._


End file.
